


Pose For Me

by YvonnePersonne



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Idk where this'll go but hopefully it'll go somewhere, Lesbian Sex, Light Angst, Model Villanelle, Painter Eve, Slow Burn, Smut, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, if and when the smut comes i can promise it'll be kinky, just let it actually come to a conclusion, that's all I ask from myself, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25579264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvonnePersonne/pseuds/YvonnePersonne
Summary: Her eyes made Eve feel naked, yet she was fully clothed. Like if she wanted to, she could kill with just a single glance. This, this feeling is the one Eve has been looking for.---Eve desperately needs a new muse as her paintings have been coming to a halt when she suddenly finds the one that makes her mind race and hands itch.AKAI'm a slut for the painter/subject dynamic.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 24
Kudos: 221





	1. Enchanting eyes

Eve was a very busy woman. She worked hard to get what she wanted, and as soon as she got it, Eve had it in an iron grip and didn't let go. Eve was always on the top of her class, well-liked by her teachers, and made sure to be respected by her peers. When she saw a challenge, she didn't back down. No matter what. 

\---

Suffocating heat and clammy skin, making her glasses slide down her nose. An experimental flick of the wrist, her brush glides over the smooth canvas. Everything feels wrong. The colours, the pose, the light, the angle, the _model_. Everything _was_ wrong, and the frustration builds up like boiling water in her stomach. This was the 5th model she'd brought in, and for fucks sake, _nothing_ felt **_right_**. 

"Goddammit..." She mutters and throws her brush down on the crickety little table next to her canvas, the paint on the bristles splattering on the wood. 

Tearing off her polo to relive some of the heat, she's left with just a tank top on. She shakes her head, curls bouncing, and she looks up at the model nervously fiddling with the hem of her baby blue dress, the same baby blue as her doe-like eyes. Eve takes a step back, then walks around the model to see if a change in angle can get rid of the suffocating feeling inside of her. But no, it doesn't change anything.

"Get out." Those same pathetic eyes meet her own when Eve stands in front of her, she looks startled, but she doesn't _move._

"I said, get out!" Finally, she moves.

"Get out get out get _out_ !" She chases away the woman (if she could even call her that, the model looked like a _God damn_ tween) as if she was a rat out the door and slams it behind her. Her hands rest on the smooth material of her door, and she bangs her head on it. Turning around to face her canvas, she scrapes her nails along her scalp and groans. The model may be gone, but her anger is far from it. Eve grips the canvas and hurls it away, and a _snap_ reverberates in the studio as the wooden supporters give in. Some of the still-wet paint smears on the concrete floor. 

If this was a movie, now is when the painter would see the smear or the broken portrait and get a bout of inspiration, but this isn't a movie, and it only gives more fuel to the fire that was Eve's shitty mood. She feels the temptation to go over and kick it, but a soft knock brings Eve out of her racing mind.

"Come in." She huffs, and the door opens. Turning around Eve sees Bill, her manager (of sorts) and best friend. He looks to the painting in the corner.

"Not going well, I take it?" He takes a tentative step in and Eve scoffs at his question.

"I can't get _anything_ right; nothing is good enough." She throws her arms up in the air as she speaks. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Well," He walks toward her, eyeing the broken painting behind her, and puts his hands on her shoulders "if you're _anything_ like the Eve I know, you just need to wait and let inspiration come to you." He gives her a light shake as he reassures her, but she sighs and shakes her head.

"At least stop bringing in models and then scaring them away, it's getting quite expensive." He chastises.

"It's not like I have a shortage of money." Eve scoffs.

"No, but you do know it's me that actually brings them in? It's a lot of work Eve." Bill raises his eyebrows and looks at her disapprovingly, and Eve manages a vague noise of acknowledgement.

"You've been working all day, let's go for a drink and wind down, eh?"

"No, I need to get this done, Bill. It's too important."

Eve starts to walk to the destroyed painting to clean it up and restart the process, but Bill grabs her arm.

"No. I've seen you like this before, and it never ends well unless you take a step back."

"But-" 

"No. Come with me." And then Eve is getting dragged out of her studio. 

* * *

Sitting in a booth, Eve was sulking.

"Are you just going to sit there and sulk forever?" Bill asks and puts his drink down on the table after taking a sip.

"Yes." Eve grumbles. Bill sighs and pulls his phone out. Scrolling, he eventually gives the phone to Eve.

"What?" She asks and grabs it questioningly. 

"If your problem lies with the models, then why don't you choose?" He says and nods to the phone. Usually, it was Bill that chose the models. Eve trusted his judgement, and any other time he made good choices. He had made great decisions now as well, but for some reason, they just didn't work.

"It can't be the models; it has to be me. The models you got me were fine, and I would've probably picked them anyway!" Eve's voice is getting louder as the flames of her agitation got reborn. Bill shakes his head and raises his hands in surrender.

"Don't say I didn't try to help." He says and gives her a pitying smile. Eve huffs and looks down at the phone in her hand. She supposes that it wouldn't hurt to at least check the contacts they have available. She lets her eyes linger on every photo to make sure she doesn't miss a potential muse. Model after model feels bland, basic, _boring_ and Eve picks up the pace of her scrolling. Eventually, she only gets glimpses of the faces until her eyes skim over a particular pair of eyes. Eve almost feels her heart skip a beat and her hands starting to itch as she goes back to the eyes she had seen. It's a black and white photo of a woman looking off to the side. Her eyes hold something sorrowful, yet bordering on blank. Her hair looked like it would feel like satin to the touch and the unique angels on her face ache to be explored. A polo shirt hugged her neck tightly, and a single long earing brought the picture together. She looks at the name under the photo, Villanelle Astankova. Eve taps on the photo and scrolls down to see more of her photos. Most of them were of her looking off just a little bit to the side, but there was one where she looked straight into the camera. It was a wider shot than before, and she was looking down into the lens like she was judging you. A soft-looking coat was draped over her, and under it, she only wore a silky lace bra. High waist pants reduced the amount of visible skin, but you could still see subtle muscle adorning her midriff, along with a few charming freckles. 

Her eyes made Eve feel naked, yet she was fully clothed. Like if she _wanted_ to, she could kill with just a single glance. _This_ , this feeling is the one Eve has been looking for.

Bills sudden chuckling brings her back to the real world.

"I suppose you found the 'one', eh?" He says and shakes his head affectionately.

"Bill, we have to book her!" Eve says and shoves the phone towards him. Bill grabs the phone and makes a noise of approvement.

"Mm, I can see what you mean." Bill chuckles and raises his eyebrows to look at Eve.

"Bill I'm serious, she's perfect." Eve says and gestures to the phone.

"Right right, I'll get in touch as soon as possible. But right now," He puts the phone back into his pocket "I want to drink and catch up with my friend." He smiles at Eve and Eve groans.

"Rude." He says and puts a hand on his chest in faux offence.

"No no I wasn't groaning at you- just you know how frustra-"

"Yeah yeah of course I know, you want to get your hands on this girl right away, I get it."

"Wha- I don't want to get my _hands_ on her I just-" She cut herself off, _well, getting my hands on her doesn't sound too bad but... _

Bill raises his eyebrows.

"Wow. I mean _I_ was joking, I don't know you were serious."

"Bill, of course I don't-"

"I know, I'm just pulling your leg Eve." He leans forward and shakes Eve's hand resting on the table.

"Thank you." Eve says and leans back into her seat.

"Unless..."

"Bill!"

\---

Days tick by at a snail's pace, and Eve feels herself slowly going insane. Every time she tries to make simple warm-up sketches, her brain goes back to the eyes she spotted a few days ago, and the itching feeling of wanting to paint the real thing comes back; but she can't draw the real thing. Not until a few more days, and maybe not after that either (but Eve tries to avoid lingering on that possibility). Bill had managed to get in contact with Astankovas manager and was told that she would want to meet first and decide after if she wanted to pose for them. It was apparently her procedure: meet beforehand to see if she could stand to be around the photographer or painter long enough to be done with the session. Just from that alone made it apparent that whoever Astankova is, she's a feisty one.

Eve sits cross-legged in her armchair with a steaming cup of coffee, hair up in a bun, glasses in place and book in hand when she gets a text message confirming the date and time of the little meet-up. Eve hadn't been able to focus on the book after that and had instead thrown it away to sketch the essential features of the woman's face; it wouldn't hurt to know what she's working with, right? She brought up the picture that she had seen before, the one where she is looking straight into the camera, and starts sketching. It flows naturally, and the scrape of her pen against paper lulls her into an almost meditative mental state. Sketch turns into simple drawing and simple drawing into a charcoal portrait. The coffee she had brought with her stands forgotten and cold on her table as her hands become black from graphite and eraser rubbings build up. When she's satisfied, she sits back, and it's then that the hunger, thirst and extreme need to use the toilet makes her realise she might've gotten a bit carried away.

"Shit..." She mumbles and unlocks her phone to check the time. 22:13. _Whoops._

This happens now and then but usually Eve is better at holding the time these days. She gets up, uses the bathroom and makes instant noodles. Despite her money, Eve has no idea how to use it. Well, _figuratively_ she does, but her taste is... Not exactly the most sophisticated, to say the least. Eve worries that whatever dress or other designer clothes she might get herself won't fit if she ever decides to use the money she has for something other than draw- and painting supplies. So, for now, she sticks to the same life she had back in college. 

After shovelling down her noodles and brushing her teeth, she settles down in her bed. It still feels weird that the other side is empty. Niko, ( _her ex-husband, _she has to remind herself) couldn't stand that she spent so much time at work and that Eve seemed to get better on with the models- ( _'people who she'd known for just a few days'_ the words from another conversation echo through her mind) -than with him. The scorching words he'd told her just before slamming the door still stung because despite not being very present in her husband's life, she always loved him; and she fears that even now, a part of her still did.

Sleep only came to her when she physically couldn't keep her eyes open anymore.

* * *

Finally, the day where she'd meet the mysterious Villanelle Astankova came and Eve sat nervously fiddling with the ribbon on her blue Filippa K kimono dress. She'd gotten it just for this occasion, but as time drags forward, her regret grew. 

"You look fine Eve. I've never seen you this nervous before meeting a model- who we don't even know will be posing for us at that!" Bill chastises next to her.

"I know, I know, I've just been waiting for a long time and it'd be a shame if it turned out she couldn't- or didn't want to for that matter, model for us." She mutters at the end. Bill opens his mouth to reply when the sound of the bell by the door went off, and he snaps his gaze toward it. There a burly man stands and beside him a sharp looking woman who Eve instantly knew to be Villanelle Astankova. She's wearing a black power suit with nothing under, the V shape dares you to wonder what's underneath. 

Bill stands up, and Eve scurries to follow along. Hazel eyes fall upon Eve's, and Eve feels time freeze and the air get sucked out of her lungs. Or at least the two of them froze, Bill and the other man shake hands and introduce each other ( _'Bill' 'Konstantin' 'Lovely to meet you' 'You too, thanks for..._ ) it blends into the background, like a bird twittering in the morning; until Bill clears his throat beside her. Eve snaps her gaze from the other woman and looks at him and then takes a tentative step forward to the burly smiling man and plasters on the best polite smile she could.

"Uh yes, hello," She grasps the hand of the man in front of her "Yeah, I'm- I'm Eve Polastri." She stumbles over her words.

"Yes, I know." His smile grew along with her discomfort, and her face starts to flush. 

"I'm Konstatin, and this," He lets go of her and turns to face the other woman. "Is Villanelle." She looks almost shy for a moment until she smears on a charming grin and steps forward to grab Eve's hand.

"Lovely to meet you, Eve." She says and Eve feels, quite literally, starstruck.

"Ye- You too." She says and curses inwardly at herself, but Villanelles grin grows even bigger. _Could I make it any more obvious that I think she's hot as balls_? Bill clears his throat again.

"So, shall we begin?" He asks and gestures to the table where Eve and he previously sat at, and Villanelle lets go of Eve's hand (her hand burns from the contact). Eve slides back where she sat by the window, Bill next to her and Villanelle in front, Konstantin sitting in front of Bill.

"This is just a little procedure for Villanelle." He leans forward as if explaining a child's' behaviour. "She's a little picky, you see." Beside him, Villanelle rolls her eyes.

"I also need to know where I will pose, how and what clothes to wear." She intersects. "Also, for how long, I may have a lot of stamina, but it's always good to take breaks." She adds in a sultry voice and winks at Eve. _Excuse me?_

"Villanelle." Konstantin looks at her and warns with a finger; she raises her eyebrows in what looks like her best attempt to look innocent. "Don't be naughty in front of the clients."

"What? Me? Never." She says and widens her eyes. Konstantin sighs and turns to look at Eve.

"This is also to see if _you_ can stand to be around _her_ ." He explains, and Villanelle grumbles out a ' _rude_ ' that was promptly ignored by the man beside her. Eve looks at the woman in front of her who seems to be sulking and then back at Konstantin.

"I think I can handle her." Eve says and smiles. Konstantin looks at her with an indecipherable expression before clasping his hands and turning to look at Bill.

"Before we begin, I'm going to order breakfast." He says and picks up the menu.

* * *

Most of the official talking was done, and now everyone is just eating breakfast, making small talk. They had agreed that Villanelle could choose the clothes with a few restrictions. No huge dresses, no lingerie and no obviously ridiculous clothes like clown costumes (the fact that Villanelle needed to be told that she couldn't wear the latter two by Konstantin gave some insight into who she was as a person and Eve chuckled to herself when she imagined Villanelle strutting in full clown gear to an unsuspecting photographer or painter).

Villanelle had mostly remained quiet during the meeting, but her eyes never left Eve. Part of it felt unnerving, the way she looked like she didn't miss a single movement or intonation from Eve's part, but it also made Eve want to instil the same emotion in Villanelle. 

Sometimes she resembled a child and especially with Konstantin it seemed, as when he left for the bathroom, it was as if a switch was flipped. When he was gone, Villanelle was bordering on cold, the only thing that made Eve think otherwise was her eyes. She looked fascinated and curious when Eve explained her painting procedure but other than that she was quite distant emotionally. 

However, the woman was also a notorious flirt. Every time she got the chance, she would make her move on Eve and Eve fought not to reciprocate. The more time that passed, the more Eve realised how infuriating it could be to work with Villanelle. 

Flirtatious with impeccable charm, yet rebellious like a teen and sometimes as childish as a toddler. She was a complicated person, that much was certain.

Currently hovering over some eggs and sausages, her posture is almost protective in nature. Like she thinks it could be snatched away from her at any moment. Eve wonders about her background; if she'd ever had to protect her food from getting snatched, she can't possibly have had a great childhood. Villanelle notices her staring and stops chewing before slowly swallowing. Her eyes narrow.

"What?"

"Nothing." Eve is quick to answer and smiles awkwardly. Eve looks down at her meal, pancakes with golden syrup and some blueberries on the side that looks delicious yet _somehow_ , Eve didn't want. All she wants to do is watch the woman in front of her. Something was so enchanting about her, it pulled at Eve like a vortex, begging to be explored.

"You gonna eat that?" Villanelle asks and points with her fork to Eve's plate.

"No, I don't think so." She says. "Do you want it?" Villanelle looks at her with pure hunger then, and for some reason, Eve gets taken aback, like the look was _for Eve_. Eve shakes herself off and pushes the plate to Villanelle. _Jesus_ , _get a grip on yourself_. Villanelle starts to eat and Eve looks out the window. For once, it isn't raining, and the usually shy sun is peeking out from a few clouds. Eve tries to focus on the people walking down the street; she imagines the lives they lead, what people they meet, who they've lost and loved. Anything to get her mind off of the eyes opposite her.

"Why did you start drawing?" Villanelle asks, and her voice comes as a surprise. Villanelle had barley asked her any questions aside from questions linked to the job. Eve glances back to Villanelle to see her sitting relaxed, posture no longer hunched over her meal. Bill and Konstantin's conversation halts as well when they hear Villanelle.

"Well... My parents always wanted me to do something more practical, but I was always fascinated by people and the environment, the play of the light, angles, and what made things interesting to look at." She gestures slightly with her hands as she speaks; making her best of efforts to make the woman see it from her perspective. "When I saw something I thought was beautiful, I wanted to show it the way I saw it to everyone around me, but they couldn't see it. Didn't see the lines that made up someone's face, didn't get why I liked a particular scenery because of the way the sunlight trickled in. It frustrated me, so I started to draw. With my art, I could accentuate the things I saw, frame it so that people understood." She stops herself before she goes on a tangent and bites her lip. She always gets a little bit nervous when she shares her perspective and passion. It is a part of who she is, so sharing it with someone is the same as being vulnerable. Villanelle looks off to the side and blinks a few times as in thought.

"I think I get what you mean." She says and then looks back at Eve. She opens her mouth to say something but seems to think otherwise and just gets back to eating. Konstantin looks to Eve and he too, seems like he wants to say something but then just smiles and shakes his head.


	2. Challenge accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve has her fist session with Villanelle.  
> (Sounds riveting, doesn't it?)

Villanelle strides down the road, away from the woman with astonishing hair, and glowing passion for art. Behind her, Konstantin struggles to keep up.

"Villanelle!" He calls out, and Villanelle swirls around.

"What?" She says and throws her hands in the air.

"Can you maybe _slow down_?" He says as he catches up and lays a hand over his heart. "I don't know what's gotten you so energised but could you spare it for later?" He pants, slightly out of breath. She pouts and crosses her arms, then throws them in the air again.

"Fine!" 

That _woman_ \- there was something about her. Villanelle was used to the feeling of lust and want, and sure, she thought that Eve was sexy and wouldn't mind peeling her out of that impressive Filippa K dress of hers. Still, there was something else that Villanelle didn't recognise. It scared her, and she hated feeling scared. That's why as soon as the meeting was officially over, she practically ran away—making a very confused Konstantin run after her.

Konstantin looks at her and throws his arms up at the sides, a silent ' _what the fuck?_ ' but seems too tired to bring it up. He flags down a taxi and before entering throws her another pointed look. She ignores it and his confusion because while she hates feeling scared, it is _way_ worse to talk about it.

The car ride remains mostly silent; the car driver too intimidated to talk because of the sulking woman with a power suit on. She feels that nows the time for some rain to match her mood, but the sun just keeps happily shining on. As if to spite her personally. The one time it comes out, she simply has to be in a bad mood, right?

"Is it because she reminds you of Anna?" Konstantin pipes up, the sound of his voice too loud in the quiet of the car. Villanelle would rather just stay silent and sulking but knows that silence is the same as agreeing, but while Eve's hair was fantastic like Anna's, she didn't resemble her otherwise. 

"No." She mutters.

Anna didn't have that spark when she talked about something she was passionate about, didn't watch Villanelle like she was studying her. 

Konstantin sighed next to her, but as usual, he didn't pry.

Villanelle wasn't sure whether she liked or disliked the fact that Eve had watched her like she was trying to take her apart with her mind. 

There's a kind of primal want to be seen in all humans. For someone to look at them and understand who they are. Yet, to be seen, you have to be vulnerable. Unless you let yourself be viewed, no one will ever see you for who you are. 

Villanelle had tried for someone to understand her before, and no one had. _Anna_ hadn't understood her. 

Eve said that she had done the same, she described the same feeling Villanelle had felt of wanting to just make people understand how you viewed the world, and _that;_ that made Villanelle believe that maybe, just maybe, Eve could potentially see her. 

It was a stupid thought; Villanelle knew that much. They'd barely known each other. Villanelle had either given flirtatious comments that lacked depth or had annoyed Konstantin. She had gotten on edge as soon as she saw the other woman and that had made her lose her usual charm and poise. Villanelle wouldn't make the same mistake twice, so if Eve really did want Villanelle to model for her, then Villanelle would put her best foot forward.

"I want to model for Eve Polastri." Villanelle says and turns to look at Konstantin. He looks at her and shakes his head, then sighs again.

"Whatever you say Villanelle."

* * *

Eve is in her studio, pacing back and forth. She's never been so nervous before a session with a model before. She blames her jumpiness on the coffee she had before but deep down knows that it's not caffeine that is making her so restless. 

Eve draws back the curtains to the floor to ceiling windows and looks into her garden. She had the fortune of having quite a beautiful house. After she moved away from the small, albeit cosy house that now belonged to Niko, she decided she wanted a home that reflected new beginnings (or some other bullshit like that). It didn't precisely fit Eve, but it had grown on her over time, especially the studio. It had two floors and was quite modern in taste, save for a few antique furnishings here and there. 

Eve looks over the pens, both graphite and coal, brushes and the various papers in front of her to make sure everything is good one last time. Today's session is so that Eve can get acquainted with Villanelle's features and for Villanelle to get a feel for the pose she's supposed to be in for quite a lot of time. They have planned to have two sessions each week for three weeks. Quite a lot of time but Eve felt it would be worth it. If things went well, she would probably make around three good quality paintings, and if she feels extra inspired, maybe she'd be able to make some more. She wasn't sure why but she'd become a niche star in the art community, which meant that she got quite the money for her paintings.

Eve goes to put up her bun before hearing a knock on her front door. As she walks to get it, she quickly brushes her clothes down to try and look as presentable as she could. Eve wore sweatpants and a tucked-in tank top. They were simple, and as she was going to be working, didn't think much of it. Or at least, she didn't until she swung the door open to see Villanelle standing there is a fantastic looking suit. It was form-fitted and looked to be perhaps Alexander McQueen? (Eve really needed to brush up on her designer knowledge.)

"Oh my _God_ is that-"

"Alexander McQueen? Yes, I'm glad you noticed." She purrs and runs a hand over her sleeve as she talks "It's the Endangered Flower Trompe L'Oiel suit." She says, and the few French words drip from her mouth in perfect pronunciation. "Do you like it?" She asks with a cocky smirk and eyes glistening with delight at Eve's amazement.

"Do I like it? It's gorgeous!" Eve says and brings a hand up to feel the material. The fabric is soft to the touch, and she feels the many gemstones adorning it under her fingertips. Eve looks up to Villanelle, to realise that she has taken a step forward and is way closer than intended. Making eye contact with Villanelle, she finds her watching her with lowered eyelids and an unreadable expression on her face. 

Eve jerks back with a jolt and clears her throat.

"So, uh, welcome to my home." She says and steps to the side and raises an arm to gesture into the rest of her home. Villanelle walks in wordlessly and Eve follows suit. 

Stepping out of the hall and into Eve's open floor plan she looks around and gives a silent nod, then turns to look at Eve with an impressed expression. 

"Eve," A chill runs down Eve's spine at the sound of her name. _The fuck?_ "I like your taste." Villanelle says and turns back to walk further into the expanse.

Villanelle drags her gaze over the to the kitchen sitting in the left corner, the bar right next to it, and then up the stairs to the visible second floor. Finally, it lands on the open double doors to her right, where the studio is and also where she'll spend quite a lot of time for the next three weeks. She looks to Eve with a single arched eyebrow as if to ask ' _in here?_ ' before walking towards it. Eve had wanted to say thank you for the compliment, maybe coyly say that Villanelle doesn't mean it or something or other, say anything really, but the words got stuck in her throat, so all she does is follow Villanelle into the room. 

The sun casts a golden glow over the room, and as Eve watches Villanelle take the room in, it's like a sheen of pure sunlight envelops around her; and Eve remembers why she chose Villanelle in the first place. It's like the world warps to fit around her perfectly. 

Eve has put out one of her armchairs, an ottoman and a simple metal stool in the middle of the room.

"I wasn't sure what pose you think you could hold, nor what furniture you would need either so I grabbed some I thought would be good," Eve says and takes a step toward Villanelle as she gestures to the three pieces. "Feel free to experiment." Villanelle gives her a look that Eve isn't sure what it's supposed to mean before going over to look over the furniture.

She rounds the armchair and runs a hand over the material, looks at the ottoman and then the stool, before plopping herself down on the chair with her legs swung over the armrest. The dark leather squeaks a bit as Villanelle moves in her seat and gauges how it would look like from an outsiders perspective, and then swings her legs back to the ground. Boots hitting the concrete she keeps seeing what will be most aesthetically pleasing to look at yet at the same time comfortable, and Eve watches on as if transfixed. Every movement brings forth new angles, and the light dances over Villanelles features. Villanelle stands abruptly and gets on the chair. With one knee on the armrest and the other in the middle of the seat, she looks down at Eve and Eve gets a light wave of déjà vu from the photo that captured Eve's attention the most. That same gaze that seemed to be scrutinising you, seeing the whole of you under an invisible magnifying glass, weighing if you were worthy of Villanelle's time and effort. Eve lets out a shuddering breath and forces herself to look away.

"Do you think you could hold that pose?" She asks as she grabs her pen and paper.

"Yes." Villanelle answeres. "The armrest is sturdy enough to not be uncomfortable." Eve finds that even if she is not looking at Villanelle, just the woman's voice affects her. She shudders as she imagines how Villanelles tongue curls around the _'r's_ that get accentuated by her accent. This might prove to be an even harder challenge than Eve first thought.

Looking up again, she for some reason surprises to find the woman exactly as intoxicating as before. It feels absurd how someone can hold that much power in just a gaze, a pose, a voice. Her presence is so all-consuming that it should be impossible for someone to maintain the same levels of power for more than just a moment. Eve takes a steadying breath before letting her pen scrape loosely against the paper. As she keeps on taking slow breaths, her nervousness seeps out of her, and her hands grow more poised and confident by the second. Villanelle becomes so still she could've been mistaken for a statue. Most models still show life; the fluttering of eyelashes, the soft rise and fall of their chest, maybe some slight movement or a throat clearing. Villanelle doesn't have any of that, and it makes her even more unnerving to watch. That is why when her voice comes, it comes as a shock.

"Have you ever modelled, Eve?" Eve snaps her gaze up, and her eyebrows furrow slightly at the question.

"No." She chuckles. "God no, no- I don't think I'm exactly fit for modelling." This time it was Villanelles turn to furrow her eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" Villanelle asks, for some reason feeling defensive for Eve even though she's the one taking herself for granted.

"Well, I'm not exactly conventionally attractive." She says with a self-pitying smile and shrugs.

"You are beautiful Eve." Villanelle suddenly says, and her arms come out to gesticulate, but Villanelle instantly catches herself and gets back into position. Eve looks at her to see if she's lying but finds nothing but honesty behind her eyes, gaze now ignited with a low-lying flame that makes her even more captivating. Eve feels warmth creeping it's way up her face as she finishes the first rough sketch. 

"I mean it." Villanelle voices, making Eve look up again.

"You had your hair down last time I saw you. It's gorgeous." Villanelle says forcefully, making Eve's face turn even hotter and by now it is most definitely visible. Villanelle gives her a self-satisfied smirk that has a dash of playfulness. Eve's hands go up to let her hair down, but for all the power Villanelle holds over her, she feels she should take some of it back. So she doesn't give Villanelle the satisfaction of seeing it again. Eve lets her hands fall and Villanelle pouts slightly but then smiles to signal that she accepts the challenge. The challenge of power, and who is worthy of holding it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked it and will tune in next time for my next chapter. It has been flowing nicely in my head, so now I just need to write it all down.


	3. Old flames burning low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle fights internally with herself as the last part of their session comes to a close.

After around half an hour they take their first break and Eve looks over her sketches. She has a bunch of them now varying in quality. Some were fast, done in only a few minutes, while a few took longer and had more shadows and depth. Most of the fast ones were the most anatomically accurate, but the ones that took longer captured the light better. It's usually like that, when you just trust your eyes instead of overthinking, they typically end up more accurate.

Eve lets her gaze drag over the many drawings in front of, trying to gauge which ones have the perfect balance between accurate and detailed. Villanelle had gone out to grab a glass of water before continuing the session, so Eve was currently alone in her studio. In the next part, Eve would make simple paintings after choosing which of the sketches were best to go after. She wants a few close-ups, so she grabs one of the drawings that were only of Villanelle from the bust and up. 

"That one's nice." Villanelles voice suddenly came, and the breath on Eve's neck made her shiver. Eve turns around to see Villanelle startling close, and not wanting to capture her gaze this close, looks down at the drawing again.

"I want to make a close-up, and then I'll paint two from wider perspectives." Eve says. Her gaze shifts to the rest of the pile, and Villanelle follows her gaze. Villanelle takes a step forward and picks one up.

"This is amazing." She mumbles, more to herself than to Eve but her words affect Eve just as much. A few of the drawings just had Villanelles eyes over and over, and before Eve can discreetly hide them, Villanelle picks one of them up.

Turning the paper to Eve, Villanelle looks up at Eve with a single arched eyebrow and a smirk.

"You really like my eyes, huh?" She asks and Eve flushes but finds herself nodding.

Villanelles smirk falls a little when Eve doesn't turn into the expected jumbling mess, trying to excuse away her undeniable attraction to Villanelles features. Looking down at the drawings again her previous small smirk turn into a soft smile, and she hums before putting the sketch down on the table. Side-stepping and walking away, she shrugs her jacket off and puts it on the armchair. Left in a tight tucked-in black shirt, she starts to stretch; body turned to the window looking into the garden. The light reveals the muscles in her back as she twists to the left, and a few satisfying cracks come along with a groan. Villanelle bends to the other side, and then forwards to touch the ground. Sitting down and then leaning forward to stretch as far as she can, she groans.

"Can you come and push me down?" She asks, voice slightly strangled. Eve scurries over and lightly pushes against her, and this time she doesn't just _see_ the muscles. Sliding her hands up Villanelles' back, she feels the hard flesh, hidden only by the thin material clutching Villanelles skin. She desperately hopes Villanelle doesn't realise exactly what Eve is doing and that she just plays it off as mindless movement. Pressing down a bit harder into her, Villanelle groans and a few more cracks are set free, and then she begins to sit up, making Eve let go.

Standing up, she takes a deep breath and then looks at Eve.

"Thanks." She mumbles as she stretches her neck, one hand resting on her hip. Her face looks a bit flushed, which would make sense if she wasn't so obviously athletic. Eve doesn't give it much thought, though.

"No problem." Eve says and fiddles with her hands as their gazes lock again. "Do you want anything to eat? We'll be continuing for about as long as before, so it's good if you're 100% comfortable when we start." She says and turns to grab the few sketches she was satisfied with and puts them on the canvas-stand.

"I can eat anything." Villanelle answers with an eyebrow wiggle. Eve blushes a bit and lets out a disbelieving snort.

"Really? Are you always this inappropriate with your clients?" 

"No." She defends herself quickly and puts both hands on her hips. "Only when I see something I like." She adds with a wink, making Eve's face flush even more. Eve shakes her head, making her curls bounce, and looks away.

"I'm starting to see why Konstantin warned me about you." She says with a sly smile as she picks up her phone to get some pizza.

"Ouch." Villanelle says and looking over Eve sees her with a dazzling smile, utterly unfazed by Eve's comment. Eve shakes her head again with a fond smile before ordering a pepperoni pizza.

\---

They sit by the glass dining table, near Eve's kitchen, in companionable silence. Villanelle devours her pizza slices in huge bites in that same protective way Eve had witnessed when they first met. There is an aura of familiarity that has draped over them even though Eve has not gotten to know anything new about the woman in front of her. 

Something about her told Eve to be wary, that accidentally crossing that invisible line could prove more dangerous than to your average person. Although, surely it wouldn't hurt to get to know the woman who seems to be a huge question mark a little bit better? Especially not if they were to spend so much time together, Eve reasons to herself.

"Why did you start modelling?" Eve asks, and Villanelle slows down her chewing. Swallowing and wiping her mouth unceremoniously with the back of her throat she hums.

"I know I'm attractive, it gives easy money, and I get to do what I want in my free time." She says and then grabs another greasy pizza slice from the box sitting between them. It kind of stuns Eve that it was that easy to her. That there was nothing more, nothing less.

"That's all?" She says, narrowing her eyes and leaning forward on her forearms. Villanelle looks back at her with a blank look and leans back in her seat.

"...Yeah." She says and gives a light a shrug. Her blank face and the pause before answering gave Eve the inkling that she was lying. Someone experienced in lying at that, which only gave Eve more questions than answers. Sighing, she slumps back in her seat and nods slowly.

"So what do you do in your free time?" She tries instead, and Villanelle shrugs again.

"Anything. Everything." She says and Eve scoffs and rolls her eyes, making Villanelle grin. 

"Mostly, sex." She adds eventually, and Eve leans forward on her forearms again.

"So you use your looks to get what you want in both private and work life, but neither give you anything with depth, not really. Does anything in your life have depth?" Eve asks, more to herself than Villanelle. Villanelles grin falls and Eve realises she has struck a nerve, for Villanelle tilts her head back and scowls at her, but then her face is blank again, and she resumes her eating. _Fuck._

\---

Villanelle leaves the table under the excuse to wash her hands and mouth off before returning to the session, which leaves her alone in the kitchen, old flames fuming. What Eve had said at the table had been true, but Eve had no right to bring something like that up. It wasn't her business- and why did she care anyway? Villanelle felt her insides slowly start to burn, and she knew she needed some more time alone to let the flames die down. Despite other peoples claims, she does know herself and when things could get out of hand. Internally she realised Eve had no idea what Villanelle fought with daily, but that didn't change anything to the anger that was always inside of her. Not feeling safe around the easily smashable crystal glasses and porcelain plates, Villanelle storms into the studio,

"Where is the bathroom?" Villanelle asks forcefully. Eve had stood with her back turned and jumps at Villanelles sudden tone. Looking at Villanelle, she points up and opens her mouth to make more precise instructions, but then Villanelle was already gone. 

Taking huge steps up the stairs, it doesn't take long until she's on the 2nd floor. 

Turning, Villanelle comes face to face with a corridor with one door on the left wall and two on the right. Swinging open the first door to her right, a slight wave of relief comes over her when she flicks on the lights to see the bathroom. Locking the door, she grips the marble counter and stares at her reflection. Flushed and looking like an angry bull. Another wave of anger comes over her at her outburst, squashing the relief from before. Yanking the tap on, the cold water comes on, and she splashes it over her face. Drinking some of the water, she then sits down on the toilet with her head in hands. Regulating her ragged breathing, minutes tick by as she forces herself to calm down.

It had been a while since her last outburst. Over the years she'd noticed a pattern in these outbursts, and how it is easier to manage if it was expected, for example, if she was in the city or at a bar she was way more prepared than in a private meeting like this one. Villanelle sighs and rubs her palms across her face as she concluded that she was just unprepared. Standing up abruptly, she looks at her reflection and shines her best dashing smile she could and thought up a simple excuse about suddenly getting her period. 

Satisfied, she reenters the real world and makes her way to the studio again. When Villanelle closes the door behind her into the studio, she turns to face a worried-looking Eve.

"Is everything alright?" She asks and fiddles with her fingers before clasping them together to stop the movement.

"Yeah." Villanelle replies and smiles the same smile she had practised in the mirror. Villanelle expected a sigh of relief and for Eve to return the smile but she did neither and just stiffly nodded. Her reaction puts an unwanted and unexpected seed of uncertainty and nervousness in the pit of Villanelles stomach, making her forget to voice the fake explanation she had thought of before.

"Okay, good." Eve says. Stepping further into the studio, Villanelle stretches her neck and arms as she walks until she is right in front of the armchair. Standing with her back to Eve, Villanelle turns, expecting to capture the other woman's eyes, and when she doesn't, it strikes her. Every time Villanelle had previously looked Eve's way, she had found Eve looking at her, so when she _didn't_ , it swayed her. 

How did this woman have such an effect on her? Every single small thing made an impression, ingraining itself into Villanelles memory to replay over and over like a broken record. 

Villanelle forces herself to stop her wandering, curious mind and steps back up on the armchair. Resuming her pose, it's like she physically feels the change of tone between them. 

Villanelle watches Eve pick up and open paint cans, she decides on canvases and redecides which sketch to go after first. Every time she looks up a bit Villanelle expects those warm dark eyes to meet her own, but they never do, and she feels herself winding up as if she'll snap like a too tightly wound string. Eve sets up lights now that it's darker outside, and the glow is warm in tone to mimic the way the sun had shone on Villanelle previously. She remains in the corners of Villanelles peripherals, but Villanelle refuses to turn her head. If Eve refuses to look at her, then Villanelle can play along. Finally, Eve comes back in view, and still, doesn't give Villanelle the attention she finds herself craving. 

Behind her chosen canvas she picks up some charcoal to make the outlines, and when her eyes finally land on Villanelle, Villanelle actually shivers. She forces the tremors to die down but knows it is too late and that Eve saw it, but Eve doesn't react. Not a single raised eyebrow, not a smile or grimace, nothing. Just those seemingly all-seeing eyes that skim over Villanelles features without truly looking at her. 

How did it all change so fast yet stay the same? It is the same pose, same light, same people. Same tension, but intensified. For what? Villanelles outburst? The outburst was pointless, wasn't it? And besides, Eve had no idea what happened. Did she hurt Eve?

"Stop thinking." Villanelle jumps slightly at Eve's voice as Eve yanks Villanelle out of the endless dark ocean that was her mind. Villanelle tries her best not to let her mind wander, for clearly, it shows in her face; however, her mind only races faster as she finally locks her gaze onto the eyes behind the canvas. Defiantly looking into the eyes that finally actually looked at her, they stand in a silent eye-contact contest, both equally stubborn.

Eve puts the coal down and starts approaching Villanelle and Villanelle keeps still in her pose, hand on hip, looking down at Eve from her advantage. Except it doesn't _feel_ like she has the advantage. 

She feels lost, no idea where this interaction is going and why it's going the way it is. Eve comes and stands right in front of her, arms crossed, looking up at her with a mostly blank, yet unimpressed expression. Villanelles uncertainty grows smaller and smaller, and slowly her previous confidence grows as she fights to win whatever it is that they are doing. Tilting her head slightly up and cocking her eyebrow in a silent question, she surprises to see the corners of Eve's mouth slowly curling up.

"There. That's what I was looking for." She says and turns on her heel. Villanelle furrows her eyebrows, thrown back into confusion yet again. Eve looks at her from behind the canvas with a smug expression.

"You don't fit in uncertainty." She says and shrugs with one shoulder. Villanelle huffs look away and then back at Eve with a small smile, who returns it, before her usual focused 'painter-face' returns. 

Villanelle feels as lost as before, but is glad that Eve is at least looking at her, and relishes in the attention as the sun sets outside. 

\---

Twenty minutes in, only ten left to go until they are done for the day, the first day at that, and Eve was done with most of the simple colour tests and was currently working on the last but also biggest one.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Eve suddenly voices after having remained silent most of the time before.

"Talk about what?" Villanelle asks and Eve stops mid-stroke to look at her before letting her arm move without having to look at the canvas. Her eyes drag away from Villanelles and back to the painting.

"You never said what happened when you burst into the studio."

"Ah, I got my period." Villanelle mumbles for extra effect, mimicking slight discomfort to make it more believable. Eve snorts.

"You expect me to believe that?" Eve says and raises one eyebrow at her. Villanelle fights against her instinct to say _'well, yeah'_ and instead she feels lost, again, at where to go with this development.

"You don't have to tell me but, please, don't lie to me." Eve says in a softer tone than before as she looks at her fully. Villanelle bites her lip and nods.

"I- well, I also want to say sorry. I think I struck a nerve which wasn't my intention." She adds, clearly uncomfortable but willing to go through with an apology for Villanelle.

"Okay." Is all Villanelle answers with, which seems to surprise Eve at first but she doesn't say anything more.

"Well- actually..." Villanelle begins and then stops herself. Why'd she almost tell Eve what actually happened? Her diagnosis is not something she readily shares, so the fact that she nearly just did was beyond surprising. 

"Never mind." She says and shakes her head.

"You sure?" Eve tries again, and this time, for some reason, Villanelle gives in.

"I'm diagnosed with IED." She begins and finds her nervousness creeping back into her.

"Do you know what that is?" She says and hates how her accent grows stronger with her nervousness.

"No, sorry." Eve says with a sheepish smile.

"It- It's short for Intermittent Explosive Disorder, and basically it means I get sudden anger outbursts." Villanelle says and feels herself wanting to look away or fiddle with her hair, any mindless movement to distract from the unfiltered, vulnerable feeling inside of her chest. Eve

"I see." Eve begins with a thoughtful expression. "Thank you for telling me, and trusting me too, for that matter." Eve says, and Villanelle feels her nervousness slowly evaporating.

"You sure you're fine with it? I should've told you sooner." Villanelle mumbles.

"Of course I'm fine with it," Eve says and her eyebrows furrow. "Why wouldn't I be?" She asks, and Villanelle can't resist it and looks away, breaking her pose, that being an answer in and of itself.

"...Do you want to talk more about it or do you just want to leave it?" Eve asks, careful not to pry for further information.

"I don't want to talk about it more." Villanelle mumbles and Eve nods. Villanelle looks back at Eve and startles to find that nothing has changed in her eyes. She isn't looking at her with confusion, just acceptance.

They're alright, and Eve isn't hurt or mad, Villanelle realises, and tension inside of her she hadn't realised was there seeps out of her as Eve finishes the last painting.


	4. Mind astray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Eve and Villanelle's minds are preoccupied, is it for the same reason?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's been a while and still, I can't really come back the way I want to. This chapter is shorter than usual but I just wanted to give you all something instead of radio silence.

Eve sits propped up against the wall in her studio, scattered pages and paintings around her.   
The moon and a few stars adorning the sky shine down on her and cast her in a liquid silver glow. It wasn’t long ago since she had sent Villanelle off with a curt goodbye, practically ushering her out of her house.   
Yet, despite having worked for a long time, as soon as the woman left she threw herself back into her art again. She looks over to the finished portrait still sitting on the easel and then back down to her obsessively drawn sketches on the floor next to her. Sketches of just the woman’s jaw and lips lay here and there, others with just her eyes, and some had her whole body. It’s like she was possessed, couldn’t stop drawing her over and over until her hand physically cramped.   
Villanelle was filled to the brim with artistic potential and Eve couldn’t get enough. She wanted to see her in all different kinds of light, angles and facial expressions. Her clothes were like an extension of who she was and it translated on paper as well.   
She’d remained withdrawn the rest of the evening, and Eve hadn’t wanted to force any more interactions upon Villanelle.   
The whole thing felt strange. Eve was fine with Villanelle having IED, but it felt sudden. Something so personal shared by someone who was still practically a stranger.   
She didn’t feel like a stranger though, Eve countered herself. That familiarity that had been around them before she had unknowingly stepped on Villanelle was not made up. It was real, and surely that had to account for something, right?  
Eve rubs her forehead, sighs, and splays a hand over one of the drawings. It was late and she needed to sleep, but her mind was stuck on the woman who captured her attention better than anyone had ever done. She wasn’t even sure what was special about her.   
_Actually, for Christ sake, what wasn’t special about her?_ Eve suddenly thought and shook her head. Surely her slight obsession was justified when her mind kept piling up reasons to find her fascinating, yet no one else seemed as captured by her as Eve. How could someone look at her and _ever_ think of looking away? It’s like they couldn’t see her untapped potential, as if they were literally blind. Physically she was stunning, but that wasn’t the only reason Eve was so drawn to her.   
Something in her gaze ached to be captured and preserved, as to never be forgotten.  
Sighing again Eve rubs tired eyes with the palm of her hand as she forces herself to get up and off the floor. Looking down at her drawings, she leaves them as they lay, her mind too preoccupied and body too tired to spare them any more thought.  
\---  
A flash goes off and burns into Villanelles’ retina. She changes pose, the hand on her hip falling as her body moves on its own accord to yet another one of her usual poses. Suffocating annoyance was building slowly, choking her from the inside.   
The photographer had the same dull hair as the grey sky behind him, and the sterile white that filled her gaze wherever she looked drilled into her skull as flash after flash went off in the studio.   
“Look into the camera.” The photographer instructed. She’d forgotten his name as soon as Konstantin had explained the details of the contract and other boring schematics and left her alone with yet another boring man. She looks at him with barely constrained disgust and he gives her a smile that she assumes is supposed to look charming and disarming. She grimaces at him but all he looks is amused.   
“It’s always the fiercest of women I find most fascinating.” He drawls under his breath and she is so close to his no doubt expensive camera, and she has to force her muscles to stay still as to not grab it and hurl it at his face.   
He stares focused into the lens, and she hears the all too familiar snaps from the camera. Everything felt so... unremarkable. The man middle-aged, white, with a too-big ego. The poses boring, the clothes mediocre and the deadness of it all made itself known everywhere Villanelle looked. It was familiar. Too familiar.   
Villanelles mind automatically slips back to soft curls and dark eyes, and as she looks into the camera, it must reveal something in her face for the man mutters under his breath.  
“Perfect...”  
Snapping a few more pictures, he straightens his back and withdraws to look at the recently captured photos. He looks back up at her with the same smile before and nods.  
“I think we’re done here.”   
For a moment he looks at her and she can already tell what’s about to happen. He takes a step forward, and then suddenly 4 more, and stands right in front of Villanelle. She fights not to laugh at his attempt at a smoulder.  
“Unless...” He raises a hand to Villanelle’s cheek. “You’d like to stay and keep me company while I do the finishing touches to these pictures.” He whispers in a way she guesses is supposed to be seductive. Sighing, she swats his hand away as to at least swat something that isn’t his face, and steps back.  
“I don’t think so, I don’t find self-absorbed middle-aged men to be very attractive.” She says and gives him a sardonic smile before sidestepping to leave the studio.   
The clacking of her heels fill the silence of rejection, and as step after step echo through the studio, it’s like time slows down. Memories of the same type of studios, photoshoots and entitled assholes filter through her mind.   
Years of the exact same procedure fill her with a strange sort of emptiness.   
Villanelle walks out of the building and out into the street as if in a haze. Looking up at the looming sky above, a soft splatter brings her out of her mind. A second one, and then a third, and then the whole sky comes pouring down. Her hair soaks, and so does her clothes. Standing in the pouring rain, its as if the water cleanses all of her minds doubts away. The recent memories of doing the same thing on repeat wash from her, and in their absence Villanelle remembers why she started doing this in the first place. As she remembers, a face with a head full of hair comes into view.


End file.
